BEVERLY BARTON - Dangerous Deception

DOM HAD EXPECTED to be kept waiting at least half an hour, so when Audrey showed up promptly at eight, he was pleasantly surprised. Once again, the very sight of her stirred something sexual and predatory within him, something he wanted to deny, but couldn’t. She was so completely feminine that on a primeval level she appealed to all that was masculine in him.

If every man she met reacted to her the way he did, he could see how easily Audrey could lure men into her snare. He had to remind himself that she was not what she appeared to be. Behind all that beauty lay the ugliness of self-centeredness and betrayal.

When the maître d’approached them, Dom took her arm and draped it over his.

“You look lovely.”

That statement was no lie. She did look lovely. The bronze silk dress she wore made her fair skin radiant and her reddish blond hair shimmer with copper highlights.

Audrey didn’t reply. Instead she offered him a fragile smile that implied she was pleased with his compliment.

Once seated across the small, linen-covered table in a secluded corner of the dimly lit restaurant, Audrey lifted her gaze and looked directly at him. “Do you make a habit of picking up women in elevators?”

“Actually, you’re the first.”

“Am I?”

“You find that difficult to believe?”

She shrugged.

Why was she so leery of him? She had no idea he was a PI hired to track her down. He suspected that her distrust extended to all men, perhaps to people in general. Had she spent a lifetime trying to figure out who liked her for herself and who liked her because she was a wealthy heiress?

Don’t go making her into a victim, Dom warned himself. Audrey Bedell Perkins was a user, a taker, a woman who’d been unfaithful to her husband most of their six-year marriage.

After they ordered dinner and sat together sipping the merlot, Dom broke the silence with a risky question. “Your name seems familiar,” he said. “Your accent is decidedly Southern, but not deep South.”

She visibly tensed. “I’m from Tennessee.”

“Tennessee, huh? I live in Atlanta. Could I have seen your picture in the newspaper or read something about you in the society columns?”

She took a deep breath, forced a smile and replied. “I’m Audrey Bedell Perkins. It’s possible you’ve heard of my father.”

“You’re Edward Bedell’s daughter, aren’t you? Of course, you are. I wouldn’t have recognized you from the newspaper photographs I’ve seen. You’re far prettier in person.”

Her cheeks flushed a delicate pink. “Thank you.”

“If I remember correctly, you’re married, aren’t you?”

Nodding shyly, she set her wineglass down on the table and folded her hands in her lap. “Yes, I—I’m married.”

“And your husband isn’t here in Palm Beach with you?”

“No, he isn’t.”

“Are you traveling alone?”

“Why so many questions, Mr. Shea? You aren’t a reporter, are you?”

Dom laughed. “Good God, no. I’m a businessman. And as for all the questions, let’s just say that I find you fascinating.”

“Do you find me fascinating or do you find the fact that I’m a wealthy heiress fascinating?”

“I suppose you want me to tell you the truth.”

“Yes.”

“Then the answer is both. If you didn’t have a dime to your name, I’d find you very interesting, but the fact that you’re Edward Bedell’s daughter simply makes you all the more intriguing.”

“I appreciate your honesty. It’s a rare quality these days.”

The waiter set their salads in front of them. Dom lifted his fork, then asked, “Will you answer a question for me and answer honestly?”

She scrutinized his face, as if hoping she could figure out just what he was getting at. “I’ll try.”

“Are you in the habit of accepting dinner invitations from every man who finds you fascinating?”

She studied him for a moment longer, then replied, “You’re referring to the fact that I’m a married woman, aren’t you? Would you be shocked if I admitted that I don’t feel very married, that you make me wish I wasn’t married.”

The knot in Dom’s stomach tightened. Shit! She was good. Damn good. She was playing him like a fiddle. How many times had she used that line on a guy? If he didn’t know her for what she was, he’d take her straight from dinner this evening to bed. And he’d keep her there all night and maybe all day tomorrow.

He reached across the table and grasped her hand. “I usually steer clear of married women, but in your case, I could make an exception. Of course, I wouldn’t want your husband or perhaps a jealous boyfriend to—”

“My husband is in Chattanooga,” she said. “We—we’re sort of separated. And there is no jealous boyfriend.”

So, Audrey hadn’t run off with Bobby Jack Cash or if she had, she’d dumped him somewhere along the way. Her being alone should make things easier. After dinner, he’d suggest a stroll along the beach and then he’d tell her who he was and ask her to return to Chattanooga with him tonight. If she refused, the best he could do was either persuade her to call her father to set his mind at ease or call the old man himself.

Of course, there was a third option. He could simply throw her over his shoulder, shove her into his car and take her to the airport. Maybe an evening drive might be a better idea than a walk along the beach. He could wait until she realized he’d driven her to the airport before confessing he was a hired gun. If she refused to go with him, he could carry her aboard the Dundee jet and strap her into a seat before she realized what had hit her.

But technically that would be kidnapping. Then again, it would be her word against his.

“You’re awfully quiet,” she said. “Is something wrong?”

He squeezed her hand. “I was just thinking about how I’d like this evening to end.”

She jerked her hand away. “No expectations. You promised.”

He held up both hands in an I surrender gesture. “A guy can dream, can’t he?”

“All I agreed to was dinner.”

“What about a ride around town after dinner? I’ve heard there are some hot clubs—”

“I’m not into hot clubs.”

“Then how about a walk on the beach?”

She sighed. “Maybe.”

Her reply was good enough for him. She wasn’t the only expert at playing games. He had sweet talked his way into more than one woman’s silk panties over the years.

Yeah, but he wasn’t trying to get into Audrey Bedell Perkins’s panties. His assignment was to track her down and take her home. Home to her worried father.

Home to her husband.

But if the lady didn’t want to go home…

DOM EXCUSED HIMSELF BEFORE dessert arrived and headed for the men’s room. Instead of going inside, he found a dimly lit corner and, using his cell phone, dialed the Bedell residence. He needed to speak to the old man himself and find out how to proceed with this investigation.

Surprisingly enough, Edward Bedell answered the call. “Have you found my daughter?”

“Yes, sir, I have.”

Silence.

“She seems quite well and happy,” Dom said. Beautiful, desirable, intriguing.

“Are you sure it’s Audrey?”

“Yes, sir. Reasonably sure. She claims to be Audrey Perkins, is registered at the hotel under that name and is using your daughter’s credit cards.”

“And you’ve compared her to the photograph I gave you of my daughter?”

“Yes, sir, I have.”

“And?”

“Mr. Bedell, do you have any reason to believe that this young woman isn’t your daughter?”

“No, no, of course not. It’s just that since she disappeared the way she did, I’ve had all kinds of horrible thoughts about her being kidnapped, murdered. I suppose for just a few seconds there, I let my imagination run wild.”